My Lady
by TessaStarDean
Summary: FlackStella. A case hits too close to home for Flack, and Stella's there to help him through it.


"Sorry I'm late," Flack said as he approached the crime scene. "What've we got?"

Stella got up from her crouched position by the body. "Marcus Cavanaugh, thirteen –"

Flack held up one hand to stop her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What was the name again?"

Stella frowned, looking down at her notebook. "Marcus Cavanaugh." Her eyes moved back to him, and she saw how pale he'd gotten. "Don? Are you alright?"

But he was already moving past her, crouching by the body. When he got a good look at the face, one of his hands came up to cover his mouth and he closed his eyes. Surprised by his reaction, Stella stepped forward, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Don?" she asked quietly.

"I know him," he whispered. On shaky legs, Don pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly before turning away from the dead boy at his feet. As he moved to walk away, Stella reached out and took his hand, silently telling him that she was there. He couldn't meet her eyes. "He's one of my YMCA kids," he mumbled.

Letting go of her hand, he wandered away.

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"I want to know about the case."

Stella looked up to find Don standing in front of her desk, an almost wild look dancing in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she moved across the room, shutting her office door before turning back to him.

"You know I can't let you work this case, Don."

His jaw clenched. "I know that. But I need to know, Stell. I need to know why this happened."

The emotion in his voice tugged at her, and she had moved closer to him without even realizing it. "I can't give you any names," she said quietly.

"I just need the why," he insisted, taking a step closer, leaving the smallest of inches between them. "Please, Stell," he whispered raggedly.

She fought back the tears that came at the pain in his voice. Nodding, she rested a gentle hand on his arm and squeezed. "Okay, Donnie. Okay."

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Stella knocked on the door again and then smoothed down her black dress for the thousandth time. Trying not to fidget, she had almost decided to leave when Don finally opened the door. He frowned in confusion.

"Stell?"

She shrugged. "I thought you could use a ride to the funeral."

Emotions warred, the battle clear on his face for her to see. Finally, his eyes reflected a genuine gratefulness. Nodding, he stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him, letting her lead him out to the car.

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They mounted the steps of the church in silence, but Stella stopped them before going into the church, taking his hand in hers.

"I know you have to be strong in there, Don," she said, looking down at the ground. "For your kids, for yourself…I get that." Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, locking them there. "But I'll be right here, holding your hand. Squeeze as hard as you need to…I've got enough strength for both of us today." Tightening her hold, she took a step closer, lowering her voice. "And when this is done, when we get away from all these people and it's just us…you won't have to be strong anymore, Don. I'll be right there. You're safe with me."

He closed his eyes at her words, letting them sink in even as he fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her hand tightly before turning and leading them into the church.

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Flack stared out his window on the drive home from the cemetery, but kept his fingers interlaced with Stella's as she drove. He could be honest enough with himself to admit that, if it hadn't been for her presence and support, he never would have made it through the service. But just knowing that she was there, that she was going to _keep_ being there…that made all the difference.

"Did you find out why yet?"

Stella glanced over at him, squeezing his hand. "We have a couple suspects. Right now…it looks like he got caught in the middle of a drug deal." She could have sworn she heard his neck snap as he turned to face her, his eyes wide. "Wait," she said forcefully. "It doesn't look like he was involved. Right now, it just looks like he got caught in the crossfire."

Don closed his eyes. He would have been surprised had Marcus had anything to do with drugs – both of his older cousins had died of overdoses, and he had been staunchly opposed to drugs ever since. The kid had had a good head on his shoulders. Flack stopped then, realizing that his mind had already switched over to using the past tense. Tears stung his eyes and he had to shut them even tighter to keep them from spilling out.

Stella squeezed his hand again. "It's okay, Don," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes, looking at her for the first time in awhile. "When we get home…you'll stay, right?"

She gave him a small smile. "I'll stay for as long as you let me."

Her smile warmed him, and Flack couldn't help but smile back. Gently, he let his thumb run along her knuckles, soaking in the strength she gave to him just by being there.

He didn't see the SUV until it was too late. As he opened his mouth to warn Stella, it slammed into the driver's side, lifting the car a little as it pushed it forward. Glass shattered and metal whined as they jumped the curb, rolling and eventually landing on their side on the sidewalk in front of an antique shop.

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Flack couldn't stop shaking, and he couldn't stop his mind from racing. As he sat in the waiting room, he replayed the accident over and over again in his head, wondering for the millionth time how he had walked away virtually unscathed, while Stella was unconscious in an operating room down the hall.

The seat next to him groaned a little as someone settled their weight into it. Forcing himself to look up, Don was surprised to see Tyrie, one of his oldest YMCA kids, sitting beside him.

"Tyrie, what…?"

The teenager shrugged. "We heard your lady got hurt."

It was then that Flack realized Tyrie wasn't the only one who had come into the waiting room. Looking around, he saw that all of his kids were there, still in the clothes they had worn to Marcus' funeral. Gaping, unable to thinking of anything to say, he turned back to Tyrie. The youth placed a strong hand on Flack's shoulder.

"You were there for us, when Marcus died. We're not gonna forget that. And we're gonna sit with you until you find out how your girl is doin'."

Flack couldn't help but chuckle at that. When Tyrie looked at him in confusion, he explained. "Stell…she's not my girlfriend. Not sure if she'd be insulted or amused if she heard you call her my lady."

"You know, Mr. Flack…for such a smart guy, you don't see a whole lot."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Danny and Lindsay arrived then, and he instead got up to explain to them what had happened.

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By the time the doctor finally came out, Flack was a bundle of nerves. Fear clutched at him, knotting his stomach, convincing him that he was going to be sick. But every time he got up to make his way to the bathroom, he would grow even more afraid that the doctor would come while he was gone. So he sat down again, wondering how long this cycle could really continue.

"Mr. Flack?"

He practically shot to his feet. "Is she alright?"

The surgeon smiled kindly. "She's going to be fine. There was some internal bleeding from the accident, but we managed to stop it. She's going to make a full recovery."

Flack let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "Can I see her?"

The doctor nodded. "She's starting to wake up. I think she'll be happy to see a familiar face when she opens her eyes."

As he followed the doctor down the hall, he had to consciously keep himself for breaking into a run. In his mind, he could still see Stella's smile, but it kept twisting into an expression of horror as she realized that they had been hit. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the image, but he knew that nothing short of seeing her for himself was going to do that.

He pushed the door open slowly, his chest constricting as he saw Stella, saw the cut that ran down the right side of her face. But then she turned to look at him, smiling weakly, and he was crossing the room, taking her hand in his.

"Hey," she said quietly, squeezing his hand as hard as she could.

"Hey," he whispered, ignoring the tears that slid down his cheeks. "How you feelin'?"

"Sore. What happened?"

"We got t-boned. The car flipped."

Fear rose in her eyes. "And you? You're alright?"

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "Nothin' but a few bumps and bruises. Doc already checked me out." He gave her a watery smile. "You know, you promised to stay as long as I let you, Stell…and I didn't say nothin' about you goin' anywhere just yet."

"Sorry about that," she whispered.

"Wanna hear a funny story?"

Stella smiled. "I'd love to."

"My YMCA kids are out there, in the waiting room."

She frowned. "Why?"

"They, and I quote here, heard that my lady got hurt."

Flack could have sworn that she blushed. "They're sweet."

He swallowed hard, and then took a deep breath, leaning in closer to her. "Can I tell them my lady's okay?"

Her eyes glistening, Stella nodded before taking a hold of his collar and pulling him closer, brushing her lips against his. When they separated again, Flack ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'll be back," he whispered. "Don't go anywhere."

"Nowhere," she promised.

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At the sound of footsteps behind him, Flack turned to see Stella walking towards him. She was healing well, and Mac had let her back to work the previous week. As she came to stand beside him, she slipped her hand into his, her eyes locked on the headstone in front of them.

"Do you still want to know why?"

The words hit him unexpectedly, and he could do nothing but nod. Stella squeezed his hand, leaning into him slightly.

"There was a kid dealing drugs in his neighborhood, and he targeted a little girl name Darlene. She's only eight. When Marcus found out, he went to the kid, told him to leave Darlene alone, that he wasn't going to let drugs take over his street. They got into a fight, and the dealer pulled out a gun…He died protecting his friends, Don."

He took a deep breath, and the knot in his chest slowly undid, taking a weight off that had been weighing him down ever since he got that crime scene. Looking over at Stella, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice full as he tried to convey just how grateful he was.

Stella smiled. "You're welcome." Reaching up, she kissed him lightly on the lips. "Any chance you're ready to take your lady home now?"

Flack kissed her forehead, holding her close. "Absolutely."

Turning they walked away from the headstone, arms wrapped around one another.


End file.
